


A Distant Rumble of Thunder

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Anger, Angst, F/M, Late Night Conversations, Phone Calls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The phone seldom rings at two a.m. because things are wonderful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Distant Rumble of Thunder

After Elle moved to Dallas for a new job, she and Spencer didn't get to see one another as often. Sometimes they'd get together when he was in the area for a case, and once or twice she'd come to visit him, but the one thing she missed about leaving Quantico behind was not being able to just hang out with him. With or without sex. 

But they'd remained emotionally close, and she was the one he called when someone killed Emily Prentiss, the agent who'd replaced her. He'd been crying when he told her, she'd heard the tears in his voice, and she'd wondered fleetingly if the Yalie had replaced her elsewhere. But she hadn't let herself ask, and though she'd offered to come to D.C. for the funeral, he'd said he felt okay. Her main concern was the Dilaudid, the temptation he might feel to return to it, but she hadn't pressed. Instead, she sent flowers, and a note to Spencer. And worried for him.

"She's alive."

It was 2:15 Dallas time, and Elle rolled over so she could turn the bedside lamp on, then squinted against the glare. "Whuh?" she asked semi-intelligently, and on the other end of the line Spencer repeated, "She's alive." Then, "She's alive. Emily's alive. She's been alive and living overseas this whole time, and she only surfaced to keep the kid safe. We took Doyle down, he's dead, but they lied. Hotch and JJ, they lied. To me, to all of us. I..."

"Spencer. _Slow down._ "

Elle could picture him pacing back and forth in his living room, his nervous energy burning like a furnace as he raked his free hand through his hair, and she sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed sleep out of her left eye. "Take a breath," she said, her voice firm but not sharp. 

Silence. "I can't. My chest is too tight."

"Try it anyway," the former profiler said. She heard a soft thump, waited for a full minute. "Reid?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He sounded a little more steady, but not by much. "I don't understand this. I went to her _funeral_. I got it, sort of, when she didn't tell us about Doyle to begin with, even though we could have helped her." He was crying again, she could hear it, but now they were angry tears.

"Baby, take as deep a breath as you can. Then count to five."

The endearment slipped out by accident. Elle was not naturally sentimental, but hearing Spencer so wired had her on edge as well. She'd gotten up from the bed, moved out into the hall. A shaky noise into the receiver let her know he'd just let out that breath.

"Okay. Okay, that helps. Thanks."

She didn't say anything, and after a minute Spencer said, "I blamed myself when she...we all blamed ourselves. What we could have done, how we could have acted more quickly if we had only known. That we could have saved her. And all this time, JJ and Hotch knew she was alive, and they said nothing."

It was grief and it was anger and it was sadness, and in her rented house in Dallas Elle was just listening. Spencer was an adult, and if he wanted, needed, her to do something, he'd let her know. No matter how much she might want to rush to his rescue, he likely didn't need saving.

"I don't know what to do," he said, and his voice was so soft she could just barely hear him. ""JJ wants to make up, and I don't know if I can do that. Not right now. I'm too..." He broke the sentence off before he could finish it, and Elle let out a half-laugh.

"It's okay to say you're pissed off, Reid," she said fondly. "Sometimes pissed off is healthy."

He made an unwillingly amused noise, and she pictured him leaning back on the couch, his tousled hair brushing the cushion behind him. Was he clean-shaven or scruffy? She flattened her palm on the glass of the window that faced the street. It was cool to the touch. She had to ask. Even if he said no, she had to make the offer.

"Do you want me there?" Making the distinction between 'want' and 'need' deliberately.

"Yes."

He said it at once, then coughed into the phone before amending that to, "Uh...maybe? I wouldn't want to make you drop everything. I'm sure I'll be fine."

The brunette made an 'mmm' noise into the phone, listened to Spencer breathing. Waited him out. She could only offer, he had to be the one to say yes or no.

"Would you?"

She let out the breath she hadn't even known she was holding, knowing what it meant to him to accept help, that his fear of being seen as needy sometimes overrode his desire to feel secure. Her hand was flush against the cool glass as she looked at the night beyond. It was late and getting later.

"For you, there's nothing to drop." And maybe she had a few words for her former co-workers as well. And possibly the Yalie too. The confused hurt she'd heard in Spencer's voice made _her_ hurt, and though she'd become less impatient since her days with the Bureau, she still knew how to get pissed off.

"I'll check for flights, see what's available." Elle took her hand off of the window, cleared her throat. "It's gonna be okay, Spencer. It really is. Get some sleep."

"Should I pick you up? At the airport. We could get lunch. I feel bad about dragging you out of bed, not to mention..."

" _Spencer_." The single word was firm. Kind, but firm, and the remnants of her Brooklyn accent turned it into 'Spen-cah'. But Elle was smiling into the phone, because she could picture his sheepish smile and the way he settled back on the couch again. "There's hardly anything you could ask for that I wouldn't at least try to give you."

He made a snuffling noise into the receiver, either from what she said or how she said it, and before he hit the 'End' button to disconnect the call, he said, "Thank you, Elle. I'll see you soon."

The ex-profiler put the phone down, rolled her shoulders. Whatever had happened, she wasn't planning to make a scene. At least not much of one.


End file.
